


Somewhere Down the Road

by iSaphura



Series: Coffee for Thieves [1]
Category: Lupin III
Genre: Coffee, Future Fic, may be expanded at a later date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 15:36:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20028187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iSaphura/pseuds/iSaphura
Summary: Lupin disappeared years ago, vanishing after a heist without a trace. The world moved on, but one stubborn police officer never really stopped believing that somewhere out there Lupin the Third was alive.Turns out, Zenigata was right.





	Somewhere Down the Road

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Future AU. Sort of an amalgamation of me wanting to sit Zenigata and Lupin down for a coffee, and my brain coming up with the Lupin Next Gen. I don't think I'll ever really continue with that idea, since I only ever got as far as coming up with the characters, but if I do then this fic is the prologue.  
Also, I've been going through a really hard time lately and as a result, I've been having trouble writing. I still have ideas, but so far this is the only one that I've completed.  
Mentions of CoC, Red Jacket, and Blue Jacket.

How long had it been?

Retired ICPO Inspector Koichi Zenigata knew exactly how long, down to the hour in fact (the minutes were a bit iffy), but he would always answer the question with “too long”. He knew exactly how long it had been since the last time he saw Lupin the Third, hanging out of the window of his stupid little yellow Fiat, smiling and waving while fleeing from a crime scene. Then, he simply vanished. It wasn’t something Zenigata worried about at first; it wasn’t uncommon for Lupin and his gang to take some time off and lie low after a large score, waiting for the heat to die down just enough for them to move on. But after that night eight years, five months, fourteen days and – Zenigata checked his watch – ten hours, Lupin the Third was never seen again.

Oh, there were sightings. People calling in claiming to have seen him. Lupin the Third became the new Elvis, except this time nobody was really sure if he was dead or alive. None of the sightings were ever confirmed, most were fake. Others in the ICPO were baffled by the disappearance, but for some reason, Zenigata was not all that surprised. Lupin would either go down in flames, or he would call it a day and quietly fade away. It seemed the thief had chosen the latter.

The rest of his gang stayed somewhat active. Fujiko showed up every once in awhile, sometimes with Jigen or Goemon or both, but most often on her own having robbed some rich boy toy of all the material wealth he was worth. Jigen appeared on the radar at times, but nothing big. He seemed to have hung up his guns. Goemon… Goemon also disappeared but unlike Lupin he reappeared at times. The last thing Zenigata heard about him was about six months ago: he had wandered into a small town in northern Japan, bought some tea and instant noodles, and returned to wherever he came from. Searches of the area turned up nothing. Ami had become a white-hat hacker, much to Zenigata’s delight.

There was no word regarding Lupin. Nothing.

Zenigata had retired two years ago. With Lupin out of the picture, he had been removed from the assignment and given other tasks. He was responsible for breaking up a major human trafficking ring and bringing in several other highly wanted criminals. He never stopped believing Lupin was somewhere out there, but at long last, it became clear that he was getting too old for this crap, and the ICPO happily agreed and let him retire with full honors.

So why was he here _now_?

Two days ago he had been sitting at home, half a world away, eating breakfast when his phone rang. It was Yata.

“I have something I want you to look at,” Yata had said. “I emailed it to you. Tell me if you see what I see.”

Zenigata was in the car on the way to the airport an hour later.

Now, after almost a day and a half of travel, Koichi Zenigata had arrived at a small town outside of Paris. He had spent the morning wandering around, tempted to knock on doors and ask people passing by if they had seen the man he was looking for, the man he had traveled halfway around the globe to find out if he was alive. But he decided against it.

Right now he was sitting at a table outside of a nice little French cafe. His French was so rusted over he had basically resorted to hand signs and vigorous head movements to communicate with the girl at the counter. He could hear the machine inside, and his mouth watered at the thought of the strong coffee coming his way. In the meantime, he pulled out a folded piece of paper: part of the news article Yata had sent him two days prior. It contained a photo from a school fair, filled with families and people enjoying themselves. And there, in the left edge of the shot, an impossible face.

Zenigata looked up as the girl came over with his espresso. “Merci,” he managed.

She smiled and nodded before returning to the counter. Zenigata lifted the tiny cup. It had been a while since he had had a proper French espresso, and he wanted to savor it. He closed his eyes and breathed in the heavy coffee scent. Oh yes, he had missed this…

He took a sip, held his breath, and breathed out. He opened his eyes to find he was no longer alone at his table.

“Is this seat taken?” the newcomer asked.

It had been eight years, five months, fourteen days and ten hours. His hair was longer, graying around the temples. He no longer had those ridiculous sideburns. Silver peppered his mustache and short beard. Lines from years of laughter creased around glittering gray eyes which were rimmed by a pair of glasses. He already had a small cup of something.

It was the face from the news article.

The impossible face.

“Lupin the Third,” Zenigata said. His voice was barely more than a whisper, as if saying it louder would break the spell and the man in front of him would vanish once more.

Lupin smiled. “Nobody’s called me that in a while. Hey, Pops, long time no see.”

Zenigata took a sip of his espresso. After swallowing he said, “Eight years, five months and fourteen days.”

“Of course you’ve been counting,” Lupin said, his smile growing wider. “Do you have it down to the hour and minute too?”

“Ten hours,” Zenigata replied. “The minutes are a bit fuzzy.”

“Understandable,” Lupin said. “But really it is good to see you, Pops, I’ve missed you. What have you been up to?”

Zenigata’s brain was threatening to short circuit. After over eight years he had tracked Lupin down and was now having coffee with him and acting like they were old friends. Which, in a way, they were. Zenigata’s greatest desire for years was to see Lupin behind bars and to _stay_ there, but deep down he held some admiration for the thief’s cunning and spirit. He never wished ill of the thief, and Lupin clearly didn’t wish ill of him either.

“Oh not much these days,” the former inspector finally admitted. “They took me off your case one they realized you had dropped off the face of the Earth. Ran some other cases, moved back to Japan and retired a few years ago.”

“Good for you! And you got a cat, I see. There are a few hairs on your tie,” Lupin added when he noticed Zenigata’s confused and slightly alarmed look.

“Yeah. Her name is Yuki, she didn’t want me to leave; especially since I only gave her an hour’s warning.”

“Now if we could just get you a girlfriend...”

This time, Zenigata was the one to smile. He held up his left hand. Lupin’s eyes went as wide as dinner plates as he noticed the small gold band around one finger.

“Pops! You son of a _bitch!_” Lupin cried. He grabbed Zenigata’s hand and inspected the ring. “When did you…?”

“A year ago,” Zenigata said. “We worked together for a while and just, well, clicked.”

“Well I’ll be damned, congrats!” Lupin ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry I missed it.”

“Yeah, you missed quite the reception.”

Secretly, Zenigata had been hoping that Lupin would have shown up at the wedding, even in disguise, and was a little disappointed when he didn’t. Goemon, being the only one in Japan, had sent a gift, and there was one woman at the wedding who Zenigata and his wife later realized neither of them knew or invited. He suspected it had been Fujiko.

The first night of his honeymoon had been the first time Zenigata truly considered the idea that maybe, just maybe, Lupin the Third was dead.

“What about you?” Zenigata asked.

Lupin squinted. “This is off the record, right?”

“Lupin, I’m retired now. I can’t arrest you as much as I want to.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t put it past you to have called in a few favors or be wearing a wire.” Lupin leaned back. “Well, I run an art restoration and appraisal business these days. Nothing too big, but it lets me put some of my skills to work.”

“And you’ve been doing that since you, well...”

“Naw, more like the last six years. It’s a legitimate, legal business, Pops. I pay my taxes. I make sure everything is authentic. The only thing that is fake is the name above the door and on the paperwork, not that you’d ever know. I had to call in a few favors for it.” Lupin frowned, but it quickly disappeared again.

“So what are you going by?”

“Claude.”

Zenigata ran through his mental list of past aliases that Lupin had used over the years. Most were puns or stupid burner names, but none were called Claude except for the one time Lupin used the name 'Claude Monet' to rent a hotel room while in town to steal a Claude Monet painting. It wasn’t all that surprising that Lupin had aliases in reserve that Zenigata didn’t know about.

The two former rivals lapsed into silence. Finally, Lupin spoke up. “You’re here about that photo, aren’t you? What a stupid mistake, I didn’t even see it was being taken.”

Zenigata pulled out the printed news article and placed it on the table. “It’s a nice photo.”

“Yeah, the local school puts on a fair every fall. People come from all over for it.” Lupin smiled sadly. “I should have known better. I couldn’t hide forever. But how did you find this?”

“Yata sent it to me,” Zenigata replied. “He’s climbed the ranks in Interpol; probably will make Inspector in the next year or so.”

“Or sooner, if he brings me in,” Lupin said quietly.

“Or that.”

“...In all honesty, Pops, I’d rather not go that route.”

‘_Then why are you talking to me?_’ Zenigata nearly blurted out. In fact, why was Lupin sitting a meter away from him instead of in a car racing for the border? Any logical criminal would have bolted upon seeing the officer who tried to bring them in for years, even if the said officer was retired. He had been walking around town all morning for Buddha’s sake. They wouldn’t have sat down next to them for a chat over a cup of espresso.

Then again, Lupin had _never_ been a logical criminal.

“Lupin,” Zenigata said. “Why were you at the fair?”

Lupin seemed to consider how to best respond. After a few moments, he smiled. “I guess I’ll have to show you. C’mon, my car’s around the corner. Don’t worry, I already paid for your espresso,” he added, noticing Zenigata trying to fish a few Euros out of his pocket.

The former inspector knew better than to trust Lupin. The former thief was as slippery as an eel, though markedly less slimy. He could charm the pants off of anyone, and outperform any of the biggest names in Hollywood. He would smile and compliment you, and then relieve you of your wallet. Which was in part why Zenigata was now following Lupin to his car; he didn’t trust the thief to stick around long enough for proper law enforcement to show up.

Zenigata barked out a laugh as he rounded to corner to find a very familiar yellow Fiat 500 sitting waiting for them. “You still have that thing?”

“What? It’s a good little car,” Lupin whined. “It’s seen me through more than a few scrapes, I couldn’t just _abandon _it, let alone _sell_ it after all the adventures I’ve had with it and the modifications I’ve made over the years. I gave Jigen the Mercedes.”

“How is Jigen?” Zenigata asked as he climbed in. His knees were practically against his chest. For the life of him, he still wasn’t sure how this car had served as one of Lupin’s main means of transportation for years. Or how three grown men and occasionally one woman fit inside. No wonder Goemon sat on the roof more often than not.

“He’s doing well,” Lupin replied. He turned the ignition and the tiny car sputtered to life. “Haven’t heard from him in a few weeks, but he visited about five months ago. Same with Fujiko. Last I heard from Goemon was he had taken on an apprentice of sorts. I think you know about Ami.”

Zenigata nodded, making a mental note to ask her if she had been in contact with Lupin over the last eight years and just didn’t tell him. The car wove through the narrow streets and in and out of traffic. The drive was in silence; neither man really sure what to say to the other. What could they say?

“There’s my shop!” Lupin said, pointing excitedly at a passing building. Despite his deteriorated French skills, Zenigata’s brain managed to translate the larger print on the sign above the door: _Claude d’Albert: Fine Art Restoration __and Appraisal_.

“Claude d’Albert?”

Lupin scowled. “I didn’t get to pick my name.”

So, Lupin’s alias wasn’t one of his own. That was probably a contributing factor as to why he hadn’t been found sooner. Which begged the question: who supplied him with the new identity? And why did Lupin dislike it so much?

Eventually, they arrived at a house in a quiet neighborhood at the edge of town It was just like any other house on the street: a small stone two-story with an equally small front yard. Lupin unlocked the door and motioned for Zenigata to enter. “After you, Inspector.”

“Former Inspector,” Zenigata corrected but accepted the invitation. The inside of the house was cozy; light-colored walls, hardwood floors, framed paintings and…

Photographs.

Photographs lining the wall along the stairs.

Zenigata tripped but caught himself before he fell. He looked down to find he had tripped over a small set of shoes. He spun around and stared at Lupin, eyes wide in disbelief.

Lupin gave a small smile. “They’ll be home from school shortly, if you want to stay and meet them.”

“_They?_” Zenigata squeaked.

“Sit down before you fall down,” Lupin said. “I’ll put on the kettle and explain.”

Zenigata stumbled into the living room and fell onto the couch. His eyes flicked about, noticing more photos, more toys, and a few framed drawings. His brain threatened to short circuit for the second time today.

_Arséne __Lupin the Third had kids?! _ _Plural?!?_

“They were born not too long before that last job,” Lupin said, startling Zenigata slightly as he walked into the living room. “That last job wasn’t supposed to be the last job, but it was. I found out about them a week later.”

Zenigata opened his mouth but closed it when no noise came out. Lupin took it as an invitation to continue. “Their mother isn’t Fujiko, before you jump to conclusions. I know who, but she’s… not in the picture. I am their father, the DNA confirms it.”

“They?”

“Twins. I have a set of twins, Pops! Arséne and Renée; Ari and Ren. They’re turning ten next month.”

Lupin picked up a picture frame and handed it to Zenigata. The former Inspector took the photo carefully, as if it was a piece of evidence. In a way it was, but he didn’t really have time for that right now. It was a rather candid family portrait: Lupin in the background flashing his trademark grin, and two children in the foreground smiling into the camera. The girl, Ren, had straight dark hair and more Western features. The boy, Ari, had curly light brown hair and vaguely Japanese features. The only thing they had in common with their father and each other were their eyes: they had their father’s mischievous gray eyes.

Zenigata swallowed. “The whole story. From the beginning.”

“I’m not going to tell you everything, Pops, come on,” Lupin replied. “Their mother contacted me after that last heist and told me about them, and what was going on. I couldn’t… I couldn’t just _leave_ them, Pops, I had to do something. But the life I was living was no way to raise a child, let alone twins. Jigen is a terrible babysitter, and Goemon isn’t much better. Sure I could have given them up for adoption, but what if someone down the road figured out who their parents were? What if they were separated? What if they went to a terrible family or aged out of foster care? So, after a lot of thinking, I decided I would raise them myself. I settled down, bought a house, started a business, and raised my kids.”

“…I have a hard time believing any of this.”

“Trust me, I have a hard time believing it sometimes too.”

“Do they… have you told…?”

“My history? No, they don’t know they carry the blood of thieves. Ari is technically the Fourth by name and blood, but I’ve made no moves to push him to take the title. They’re kids, and deserve to be kids. They deserve… they deserve the life I never got the chance to have.” He spread his arms out. “I never had any of this. When I was their age, I had already survived a few assassination attempts, I was already out pulling jobs. I didn’t get to go to school, make friends, play sports, or have a parent to come home to and tell them about my day. That’s why I gave it up.” Lupin smiled. “We’ve all got to grow up sometime, Pops.”

Lupin’s younger years were a complete mystery to everyone who wasn’t Lupin. As far as Zenigata knew, he wasn’t born, he simply materialized the day he sent his first calling card. In fact, Zenigata wasn’t even sure Lupin the Third was the direct grandson of the original Arséne Lupin. Lupin was, despite being one of the most public criminals ever known, still an enigma. However, the former Inspector knew Lupin had a way with kids; he had seen it first hand a few times. Maybe it was because Lupin was so childish himself, and the fact that he didn’t have a normal upbringing meant he had to act out his childhood fantasies as an adult.

“What about Toshiko, Pops?” Lupin asked. “How is she these days?”

“Oh, ah, she’s a university professor now,” Zenigata said. “She teaches forensics.”

“Like father, like daughter.”

“I guess so. I haven’t seen her in a while since she teaches down south. I should give her a call...”

In the kitchen, the tea kettle started to whistle, and Lupin got up to go and turn it off. Zenigata blinked and shook his head. In all his years, he never expected to find Lupin like this. He had found Lupin in numerous outlandish situations: hanging from ceilings, trapped in a dungeon, excavating tunnels, in the middle of stealing something, impersonating everyone and anyone from some little old lady to Zenigata himself. What Zenigata never expected was to find Lupin in a domestic setting. The only thing missing was a lovely little housewife and a dog.

A quick look around at the other photos in the room told Zenigata that there was no woman in Lupin’s life now. He didn’t have time to sleep around, and doing so would probably draw unwanted attention to a single father and his two kids.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” Lupin asked as he returned with two steaming mugs. “It wouldn’t be a problem. I’d offer to let you stay the night as well, but I have a feeling that would be awkward for both of us.”

“Just a bit,” Zenigata replied. “And I’ve already got a hotel room.”

The two former rivals chatted for a bit, talking about everything and nothing. After about an hour, Lupin glanced at his watch. “They should be home soon… there it is.”

Zenigata heard the deep rumble of a school bus followed by squeaking breaks. Lupin got up and went outside to greet the kids, leaving Zenigata to quietly sip his tea and contemplate what was about to happen. He only had two minutes before the door burst open and he heard two children shouting in rapid-fire French. They hurried into the living room, stopping in front of Zenigata. They both smiled and bowed.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Zenigata-_keibu_,” they said together in Japanese.

Zenigata blinked several times in surprise and then turned to Lupin who had just walked in. “They know Japanese?”

“The more languages they know, the better these days,” Lupin said. “They’re learning English in school.”

The boy held out his hand. “I’m Ari.”

“Hello Ari.” Zenigata wrapped his hand around the boy’s small one and shook it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“And I’m Ren,” the girl added.

“It’s lovely to meet you too, Ren.” Zenigata shook the girl’s hand as well.

“Do you really work for Interpol?” Ari blurted out, and then quickly added. “Zenigata-keibu.”

Zenigata smiled; it had been a while since anyone had attached _keibu_ to his name. Except for Yata, who still did it out of habit even though Zenigata insisted he really didn't need to. “I used to, but not anymore.”

“That’s awesome!” the boy cried. “I want to be a police _Inspecteur_ when I grow up.”

Behind the children, Lupin made a face that said “_see what I have to deal with? He wants to join the dark side”_. Zenigata filed the fact that the son of Lupin the Third wanted to be a police officer away for future use.

“Good for you,” the former inspector said to the future inspector. Ari beamed.

“I want to be a scientist,” Ren said quietly.

“That is a good profession as well,” Zenigata replied. “My daughter is a scientist.”

Ren’s face lit up. “Really?”

“Yep. She helps catch criminals using science.”

Lupin stuck his tongue out.

“That’s awesome!”

“Okay, you two, homework time!” Lupin said. “You can ask Pops here more questions over dinner, okay?”

“Okay!” the two children chimed, and they hurried off into another room.

Lupin turned back to Zenigata and pointed at him. “Don’t you dare...”

“You kids want to become police officers,” Zenigata chortled.

“Only Ari does, Ren wants to work for the ESA,” Lupin snapped. “I am well aware of the irony in this, Pops, I _don’t_ need you rubbing it in too. Jigen does that enough as it is.”

Zenigata stifled a laugh. Oh, this was _too _perfect. “Do they at least know about Lupin the Third?”

“I mean the name comes up from time to time mostly in a “Where could he be, what happened to him, who was he really” conspiracy theory shows but… Pops, no.”

“You know he’s going to ask questions about my past cases.”

“Pops, no, I swear to god…”

“And I was on the Lupin case for _years_...”

“Zenigata this is blackmail.”

“No, it’s not. It might not even come up.”

“And if it does I will pay you to say nothing.”

“That’s bribery.”

“Doesn’t count, you’re not an officer anymore.”

“I’m going to become Ari’s new best friend.”

“Pops please no…”

Sure enough, questions regarding Zenigata’s time as a cop came up during dinner. Some were easy enough (“So did you have, like, a badge and stuff?”), others a bit more complicated (“Did you ever fire a gun?”). Zenigata answered Ari’s questions to the best of his abilities, and within reason. Finally, towards the end of the meal, Ren made a request for stories about some of his jobs. Much to Lupin’s relief, Zenigata didn’t focus solely on his escapades, and instead recalled assignments from when he first started out, during periods when Lupin went on hiatuses, and after Lupin disappeared. But some of their encounters came up, mostly the ones that Zenigata could spin in a way to make him look like the hero, rather than a failure for letting Lupin escape.

Of course, he left out the fact that Lupin eventually escaped, until Ari picked up on it.

“Lupin was… crafty,” Zenigata said. “He was a thief, and not always a nice man, and he had a terrible habit of evading law enforcement after I handed him over.” (Lupin nearly choked on the potato he was eating.) “But he had his moments…”

Lupin found himself wrapped up in Zenigata’s retelling of some of their encounters: the incident in Cagliostro, the one time when they got chained together in Morocco, the time they stopped a runaway train. All of them were stories Lupin had lived, but to hear Zenigata tell them from his perspective was refreshing. Zenigata was careful to leave Jigen, Goemon, and Fujiko out of his retellings, but if they were needed for the story he gave them vague descriptions and names: the muscle, the gunman, the lady.

Ren was the one to ask the question Zenigata had been hoping to avoid. "Dad, why do you call Zenigata-_keibu_ 'Pops'?"

"I, uh, well..." Clearly, Lupin had been hoping the question wouldn't come up either. Zenigata could practically hear the former thief's brain working in overtime trying to come up with an acceptable answer. As much as he wanted to know the answer as to why Lupin called every officer assigned to his case "Pops", Zenigata decided to come to the rescue.

"It's just a nickname your father started calling me a long time ago, when we first met," Zenigata said. "We've known each other for a while, but haven't seen each other in many years. Not since you were very little."

Lupin smiled. "Yeah, it started as a joke and then just kind of stuck. Besides, he looks like a 'Pops', don't you think?"

Following dinner, Lupin told Zenigata to take it easy while he took care of the dishes, but the former inspector insisted he at least help with something. He ended up helping the kids finish their homework and then joining them for some TV time. They watched a few episodes of a children’s cartoon. While it was in French, Zenigata managed to understand every few words, and Ari and Ren were more than happy to explain the premise: something about three alien women raising a half-alien boy with powers. Oh, and sometimes they fought monsters.

Finally, at 8:00, it was time for Ari and Ren to get ready for bed and for Zenigata to head back to his hotel. Lupin offered to call him a ride, and as Zenigata started to take him up on the offer, he heard a series of buzzes come from his coat pocket. He fished his phone out and found several calls and text messages waiting for him.

“Yata?” Lupin asked quietly.

Zenigata sighed. “Yeah.”

“What are you going to tell him?”

If this had been eight years, five months, fourteen days and some hours earlier, if it had been five years ago, if it had been two years ago, if it had been two days ago, Zenigata knew exactly what he would have done. There would have been no question as to what he would have done. Of course, he would have done it hours earlier at the cafe. It would have been his crowning achievement.

But now…

“I don’t know.”

“Well, let me know when you decide,” Lupin said. He looked out the window. “You’re ride’s here.”

The two went out into the entryway and Lupin opened the door. “It was good to see you, Pops.”

“It was good to find you alive,” Zenigata replied.

“Don’t be a stranger, eight and a half years is too long.”

“Agreed.”

The former thief held out his hand, and the former inspector took it and shook it. Lupin watched as Zenigata walked towards the waiting car. As he got in, his phone buzzed again. It was Yata. Zenigata closed his eyes and sighed. He was going to have to say something, but what? He flicked the screen to answer the call and lifted the phone to his ear.

**Author's Note:**

> In my original draft, Lupin willingly turned himself in, in exchange for keeping Ari and Ren safe. Then while watching the English dub of Part 5, Lupin made a comment of how if he just turned himself in, he would stop being Lupin and I realized even though Lupin here had stopped being Lupin, he was still Lupin and he wouldn't give up his freedom so easily (did that make any sense?). Also, I like dad!Lupin, and after giving his explanation for why he chose to raise Ari and Ren, he wouldn't give that up. So I rewrote the second half of the fic, even though it meant cutting a scene where Clarrise de Cagliostro basically crashes Lupin's trial.


End file.
